Kaleidoscope
by Luna Quiche
Summary: "Jack was everything that Damian wasn't, that the Academy wasn't. Jack was unique, invincible... almost blinding, hypnotizing, one single kaleidoscope that made Damian dizzy when he tried to observe it." Jack and Damian from the day they meet until the end of the world championship. (Obviously Jack/Damian, rated T for a very, very vague sexual scene later on)
1. Fall Into Your Sunlight

**A/N: This story means the world to me. It is actually a translation of a multi-chapter fic that I finished a year ago. My view on Jack/Damian in all details. Back when I wrote this fic none of their episodes had been translated, but amazingly enough it still matches them very well.**  
**This was the first and only fic that ever just came to me. I was in the middle of something when it hit me and I started writing. It is very personal for me, too, as the time I wrote it in was one of the worst in my life. A lot of my own feelings went into this work.**

**I hope you can feel a bit of the intensity with which I wrote this, with which I love Jack and Damian and their relationship.**

_**This is, now until forever, dedicated to my girlfriend Soup, the Damian to my Jack. **_

* * *

The HD Academy was a dull and con-formal place. Day in, day out Bladers entered the building, the gym halls, the classrooms. Day in, day out, the same rhythm, a machine with eternally unchanging sound, alike to an artificial heartbeat.

The heartbeat was Damian's second self, so in sync with his own that he threatened to forget its existence. The Academy was all he knew. An existence one the other side of these walls seemed to be only a vague, incomprehensible secret. Damian didn't need it. Damian didn't need anything except for food and sleep and the eternally unchanging process of learning and training.  
Damian was good. He was the best of the best and all other students obeyed the silent law of 'oppose him and you can stop hoping for any sort of career here'. His reputation was whispered from person to person, making him half human half a mystery and always ensured him a nice spot in the cafeteria.

For Damian all of that was only natural. He accepted it like he accepted anything else. He got better, always better and stronger. He didn't waste a single thought on the idea that anything might change sometime. Eternally unchanging, day in, day out, a proportional procedure of effort and improvement.

Step by step, day by day, in a world that had been robbed of all its depth by neon floodlights. Grey, gray, grey and grey again, step by step... and then colour. Bright and blinding.

Damian blinked, but the image he saw did not disappear. He lifted his head from his hand and turned to the window. Unnoticed by the class that was fully focused on the behaviour of blade tips in soft gravel, unnoticed by the world, by everyone except for Damian, an exotic garden grew in the courtyard.

Colours over colours, soft lines and wild edges playing catch with each other, a seemingly random pattern that formed an own world in itself.  
The last time Damian had cared to look out of the window, the courtyard had still been plastered in grey.  
Damian was staring out, tracing single colour trails with his looks and trying to comprehend what had happened and what he should think of it, when a part of the colours moved.  
Damian tilted his head and as his eyes got used to the dazzling colours, he could identify the cause of change, that collection of different colour shades as a boy.  
From the emptiness of Damian's mind a faint notion of irritation grew. The stranger stood in an ocean of paint buckets and used his hands and feet to finish that enormous painting. He simply didn't belong here.  
The notion of irritation rose and couldn't quite decide if it wanted to turn into confusion or anger. Damian had forgotten about the lesson, the teacher's voice was reduced to a mere background sound now.

The artist seemed to notice his gaze and turned around and without even the shortest moment of searching he looked up to Damian's window, directly into his eyes, and grinned, a grin in between manic madness and deepest superiority.  
Damian didn't avoid the look, only encountered it with stoic expressionlessness, a bit as if he would look through the other. But that wasn't the case. Nobody could have ignored that presence.

And the artist laughed, his lips, painted in a full blue, curved as he talked. Through the distance and the glass Damian couldn't hear a single sound, but it was as if he could sense the predatory intonation. He wasn't impressed.

A few seconds later the moment was over. The bell tore the spell apart and everyday life, the artificial heartbeat, called Damian back. Apruptly he stood up, not giving the window a single further look.

With thorough avoidance of any visual contact to the courtyard Damian finally could suppress his disturbance - possibly even curiosity- and finish the day just as usual.

Only the evening proved to be a challenge, because the dorms weren't part of the main building. Instead, they were build on the other side of the courtyard.  
And like that Damian found himself in front of the door, staring at an ocean of colours that couldn't be fully tamed even by the darkness of the night. But who would Damian be, had he let himself be stopped by that?

With secure steps he moved over flowers and blossoms. Only at the center of the yard he came to a halt and looked around, feeling almost overwhelmed by the tasteless, effect-seeking and unbelievably logical, attractive combination of colour shades. Not that Damian had cared for art though.  
He shook his head and continued walking. Even as he had shut the door of the dorm behind him the acrid smell of paint didn't leave his nose, stuck to it like a unwelcome parasite that you couldn't get rid off.

Damian slowly walked up the stairs, turned left to his wing and then almost would have bumped into Dr. Ziggurat who looked at him appraisingly.

"Damian," he greeted and Damian didn't say anything in return. That wasn't uncommon. Not in the slightest disturbed the doctor went on: "We have a new student."

Damian raised his eyebrows. Was that really so unusual?

"I gave him the room next to yours. I know, it has been empty for years but he is... special. In every sense."  
Damian nodded and went past him, further in direction of his nightly sleeping routine, but he couldn't shake the slight apprehension that crept around him like mist.

The door to the neighboring room was opened as he passed. Damian shortly looked inside and instantly regretted it. In between red strands of hair green eyes glimmered and surrounded by spider webs the stranger from this morning stood in the room.

"Ah!," he said and gestured widely, "the admirer from earlier!"

Damian stopped walking, not used to being approached and gave a sceptical frown. "Don't just makes assumptions like that."

The stranger didn't appear bothered by the comment. He merely stepped forward a bit, which confronted Damian with his stomach, causing him to have to lift his head to keep sight of the other's face.

"Sweet. You're really tiny." The artist smiled and even dared to pat Damian's head lightly. For the duration of a bit of reaction time nothing happened, then Damian vehemently pushed off the hand and glared, hissing not to touch him.

The redhead flailed his hand melodramatically as if Damian had actually hurt him, but his smirk proved his gesture a liar. "How snappy. Not a nice start for a beautiful neighbourship. Who are you even, poisonous little man?"  
Damian huffed and was already about to leave his ditch his new acquaintance as something held him back. He thought of the colours, that change, and turned around again.

"Damian Heart."

"How cute. My name is Jack," the other purred as Damian was already walking away. The dramatic gesture got lost to an empty hallway.

Damian went to bed and stared the ceiling. From next door he could hear how suitcases were unpacked. The walls were thin, way too thin, way to thin to keep Jack apart from him for real. Jack was like an alien element to the school, but a purposely inserted on as Ziggurat had been the one to bring him here. He had to have some sort of talent sleeping inside of him that could make him a part of the logic again.

Damian fell asleep to the sound of his everyday life. One single wrong tune didn't have to mean anything...

But it could, apparently.

The next morning Damian woke up to paint smell, a scent that he already hated. Paint smelled artificial and acrid, hurt his throat and burned itself into his sell of smell so that he had to endure it for hours.  
Seeing that staying in his room and opening the windows wide wasn't an option, he had no choice but to follow the smell as if it was some sort of trace. Inevitably it led directly to Jack. Not that it was much of a distance.

The redhead boy stood in front of the door to his new place of residence and completed last lines on the surface, using his fingers that were protected by rubber gloves.

Damian wanted to move past him, but he couldn't stop himself from glancing at the artwork.

It was something completely normal, almost too mundane to fit its artist, if it wasn't for the way it was done. Actually it was some sort of doorplate. At least the letters of Jack's name were clearly to be read, but 'clearly' was in no way to be understood as 'plain and undecorated'.

The lettering was full of flourishes and tied together with each other as much as tied to the background, but still obviously differentiated by the attachment colours.

Without noticing Damian had stopped in his tracks, but luckily it didn't matter, because Jack didn't seem to notice him at all. He was completely lost in his own world. His breath went fast and a manic grin graced his face.

"Beautiful," he whispered passionately, "Excellent!"

It was a dedication like Damian had never seen it in the Academy before. Disapprovingly he clicked his tongue. "You're too sure of yourself."  
It took a second for Jack to wake up from his trance fully and for the real world to pull the corners of his mouth back into a normal position.

Damian had already been about to move on as Jack finally spun around and looked into his eyes determinedly. "Your comprehension of art is truly lacking, Damian Heart." For a moment Jack's eyes were filled by a hint of danger, but then he just grinned again and dramatically spread his arms. "But I'm going to change that!"

Damian gave a shrug. "Well, I'm going to get breakfast now."

And Jack followed, just like he would ever-so-often in the following days, weeks and months. All that kept the other students away from Damian seemed to magically attract Jack. Ziggurat probably had placed Jack next to Damian because he feared for the balance of the other, weaker students und he thought Damian to be stronger, able to not be tinted by Jack's colours. But his worry had been unfounded in one regard. It wasn't that the other students weren't fascinated by the shimmering glowing Jack. It was Jack who basked in their attention, but otherwise kept his distance. Instead he attached himself to Damian, made it his hobby to provoke reactions from him and confront him with his art at every convenient occasion.

Damian didn't know how to feel. It was unfamiliar... unfamiliar to hear steps behind him in the halls, unfamiliar to have somebody next to him at lunch (somebody who did the most amazing things with his food before he ate at that), unfamiliar to actually be talking to somebody. Not that he would have liked to, but Jack forced him, provoked him extraordinarily, sometimes even by doing nothing. He could always make him give short comments.

Jack was everything that Damian wasn't, that the Academy wasn't.

Jack was unique, invincible... almost blinding, hypnotizing, one single kaleidoscope that made Damian dizzy when he tried to observe it.

In the world of school Jack was his own little island that successfully defied any monotony. Damian stood at the border to Jack's world, monitoring it without either being sucked in nor mustering up the will to turn away once and for all.


	2. Paint It Red

**A/N: Wooow, this took. I admit, at first I thought this fic had gone unnoticed but in the last weeks a lot of really kind reviews popped up out of nowhere. I don't know where you guys came from, but you made me really happy with your words! Thank you so much for encouraging me to continue this translation project! I hope I'll get next chapter up faster, but be assured I will get it up sooner or later anyway! **

It was a black-and-white movie with unexpected colour sequences and it annoyed Damian. Jack didn't blend in with the Academy, rather he only followed his own patterns, sometimes there and sometimes gone. It was impossible to predict, he swirled around, made rooms burst through his presence only and left vacuum-esque emptiness when he left. It were two contrasting extremes that were near impossible to escape nowadays.

When Jack was there, chasing Damian, irritating him with his blarney, then Damian felt harassed, almost suffocated, but when Jack made himself scarce, locked himself in somewhere to paint without being available for talking, then Damian felt strange, as if something was missing. He got a little too used to not being alone any longer.

Jack had become a part of his life, but not a constant component and it confused Damian. But he acquiesced both the emptiness and the overload of impressions.

Art was now ever-present. Jack left a trail of colour and creativity wherever he went. Even when he didn't do anything, he talked so much and so convincingly about form and shape of the world that it was hard to unhear.

Jack talked a lot to Damian, filled his formerly silent world with words, impulsivity and a thousand of other things Damian had always thought unnecessary.

But it was fine. Damian let the smell of paint fill his senses and sighed.

He was sitting on the banister rail that Jack had been sitting on previously when waiting for Damian to leave the classroom (Jack himself didn't actually pay much attention to classes if he ever even attended) and watched as a tumultuous ocean grew on the wall opposite of him.

Ziggurat had deliberately reserved this wall for Jack. He was constantly on the search for spots to allow Jack to paint over in order to prevent another chaotic thing like the campus flowergarden back in the day. Damian often wondered what Ziggurat was even thinking, allowing Jack this much freedom, but he suspected it was so that art could become Jack's big focus in the arrange system.

His time in the capsule had already changed Jack's behaviour, Damian could clearly notice. Jack was breathing in short gasps, in ecstasy, as he moved his hands, spread colours, created, created, created more and more and more precise. Most likely he didn't even know Damian was still here.

"Beautiful...", he sighed passionately, "Beautiful!"

Damian wondered what he was even doing here. He could just go away, Jack wouldn't even notice, but he stayed, inhaling the detested smell of paint. Somehow, it was relaxing. Had he stayed in the training gym, it would have been overrun by people who would step aside but still bother him with their irrelevant existence in general. But here, here there was nobody else. Here was just Jack and in a twisted way, that was perfect.

Another half-an-hour passed and finally Jack turned around and watched Damian with this strange, insane glowing of the eyes.

"Isn't it wonderful?", he asked while taking off his gloves and dramatically brushing his hand over his forehead, "A true piece of art!"

Damian looked at the painting again. It was a hellish scenery, breaking boats and merciless leviathans biting through living flesh just as they desired. Damian smiled. "Yes, I like it."

He jumped down from his sitting spot and walked next to Jack, who smiled in satisfaction.

"Excellent!"

Damian didn't say anything further. As much as Jack would have liked him to, talking about art still wasn't his passion and probably never would be.

Together they made their way in direction of the kitchen and Damian snatched toast and butter from Jack before he could get the idea to start yet another artwork - that would take time and Damian wanted to get to training before nightfall. He was lucky. Jack's mood was merciful, perhaps because of the previous compliment. Soon they could enter the training gym, which had considerably calmed down by this hour. The remaining other students all fixed their eyes on the newcomers and moved back a few respectful steps. Training with Jack and Damian was a double-edged sword. For one it was interesting and it could teach you lots to watch them, but on the other hand there was the chance of actually becoming a training opponent for them. At this point things were still fine as the two were using mechanized training to warm up, but sooner or later they would want to actually battle and two of those who were brave enough to not run away immediately would have to fall victim to these battles.

Actually, it was almost less cruel to fight the strongest, Damian, than to go up against Jack. Damian's battles were over soon, he was merciless and brutal, but the pain had an end. Jack in contrary...

Damian sat down and watched him, once again. To Jack, blading was art. It was a mind-set that Damian might not have been able to approve of but which's results pleased him. Jack didn't have a talent for actual beyblading, but after some time in the arrange system, his desire to create could be channelled in order for maximum fighting results. Jack could easily inflict pain on others, exactly because he was fully uncaring of whether or not they suffered. His beyblade artworks were cruel because he destroyed stadiums and beys solely based on aesthetics, not anybody's feelings. There was little actual sadism in Jack's violence - just overwhelming distance from anybody else's hearts. Jack lived in his own world and he recreated it every single moment.

Opposed to that, Damian didn't have a sense for beauty, but he saw the precise way in which Jack created it, his smirk, his movements, a fascinating evil god, and that in itself was something Damian would almost have called 'beautiful'. He didn't think the thought to the end, limited himself to acknowledging that Jack was worth the attention he was forced to give him.

Jack ended his battle, flipped his hair back and laughed, then he turned to Damian. His green eyes were gleaming, he seemed still excited from painting and blading. "This is the second time today that you've been watching me. Maybe you're a little more interested than you admit, hmh, Damian Heart?"

Damian shrugged and turned around, fully knowing that Jack would definitely be following him. "Think whatever you want."

This was the one constant element that Jack was usually lacking. This silent agreement between them that went deeper than what they said or even thought. Damian had accommodated to Jack, even if he never would have thought to call him a friend. They had common interests, even if neither of them knew what kind of use they had from that.

The heartbeat of the academy went on, undermined by Jack's atonal melody. Ziggurat was pleased. Damian started being more attentive, not only in regard to Jack, but the change was surely caused by him. Jack in return became wilder, more limitless in art, but Damian was his calm centre. It was a dangerous game the arrange system played with Jack's balance. His already sickly, obsessed soul got encouraged, more and more, higher and higher until Jack's world was exploding with colour, until he sensed each impression increased by a tenfold, until he threatened to burst with notions he wanted to express.

It went so far that people had to chain him, restrain him in a straight jacket, just to stop him from turning everything around him and possibly himself into art and destroy it all in the process. Jack was a danger for himself and his surroundings, but nobody thought to stop this development.

Damian watched the changes with stoic calm. Whatever was necessary to make Jack a perfect blader was necessary. What Ziggurat said was law. That was all there was to it. And Jack had always been a little insane anyway.

On those days in which he was wrapped in the straight jacket and phantasized, describing parts of artworks that rushed through his mind without being fully accessible, on those days Damian sat next to him and heard. He didn't actually listen as such, he only heard the noise in the same way some people used boring radio shows to fall asleep. What Jack said didn't touch him, but it was weirdly relaxing and familiar to hear the connectionless fragments.

Jack gave him this insane smirk in return, that nobody would have been able to quite identify. Maybe there was a hunch of thankfulness in it, but not even Jack himself could have known.

The state of complete confusion never lasted very long. It wasn't Ziggurat's goal to make Jack completely mentally incompetent. He just wanted to find the edge, test the border as far as possible, even if that meant risking to destroy Jack completely.

A year had simply passed since Jack had imprinted the school with his colours and tinted Damian's world. Damian noted that Jack was becoming more stable again. More insane than back at their first day together, more psychotic, but relatively constantly so. Just impulsive, way too impulsive, but the worst seemed to be over and done with.

Damian had believed in that and it hadn't surprised him in forever to hear Jack's clipped breath in the other room. But this day it was different, even though he didn't notice when he was first woken that night. It was 4am and Damian was tired. All he wanted was some more sleep. He pressed a pillow to his ear and managed to fall back into slumber, but a while later a loud thud reawakened him. That went too far. How could Jack even _dare_ to be creative at this hour of the night? Damian flung his legs off the bed and shivered as he sensed the cold air in his room.

The heavy breathing from the neighbouring room continued and now Damian began to idly wonder if there was something abnormal about it. Barefooted he walked over to Jack's door. He passed on knocking as he was neither polite nor had any reason to, when Jack was doing art and wouldn't even hear it. The door opened and Damian stared into darkness. Now he got suspicious for real. Not even Jack would paint without any light on. With his pale hand he searched for the light switch, found it and pressed it, a gesture that now allowed him full view on a surreal scene.

Jack wasn't standing, there were no open paint buckets, even the ever-present acid-ish scent was nothing more than a faint nuance in the air. At first Damian didn't even see his room neighbour, but then his gaze wandered down to the floor.

Jack raised his head, his hair messily hanging all over his face. His eyes were clouded over. He wore nothing but his pyjama and there wasn't a trace of make-up on his face. He looked miserable.

Cautiously, Damian stepped in, a bit closer, not knowing how to deal with the situation at hand. Jack was suddenly so weak, having trouble even breathing... Such a thing had been hard to even imagine before.

Now that Jack had seen him, a little bit of life seemed to return to his body. He started moving and doll-like, waveringly he got up, sweating even more. "Come here", he whispered hoarsely.

Damian stopped standing like a statue and before he could think about it, he obeyed and came a little closer to Jack, who reached out for him. Before he could even push him back, Jack had already used him as a support for climbing back into his bed. He needed help, they both knew, but neither really wanted to say it out loud. For a moment there was nothing to be heard but Jack's breathing. Damian already wanted to turn and leave him alone like this, when Jack's hand shot up to hold his wrist tightly. With a speed that was astounding in this condition, Jack's upper body move up and...

... warmth. An overflowing heat, as if fever was contagious. The heat radiating from Jack's body was clearly noticeable and Damian stopped freezing, especially his cheeks heating up instantly as their lips were pressed together. He'd expected anything but this.

Jack had closed his eyes, Damian could see it well as his own eyes were widely opened, as confusing and an unknown feeling came over him all at once. It was only a short moment before the feverish Jack let him go and smiled. "Thanks... for getting me.. back up here.. Red suits you, ... _Damian_."

At first Damian didn't really know what he meant, but then Jack's long, thin fingers brushed over his cheeks and it became obvious.

"Take a look at yourself before you comment", he countered, because Jack's illness had him marked in an entire pattern of red shades over his skin, looking as if he was burning hot. For a moment Damian found himself looking only at him. He'd called him by his first name, without any addition. That was a rarity. A second later, Damian stood up without warning and left the room.

He was tempted to just leave Jack to his fate and go back to bed. His spirit was finally beginning to become a mess. It was just like Jack to always do whatever Damian didn't want. He'd have to get through this fever himself, Damian decided as he stood in the hallway and cooled down. Finally, he was shivering again. If Jack could get through his illness alone then he was strong and maybe even important enough to get this close to Damian, to be allowed to startle him like this.

Damian's hand wandered up to his own lips as he laid down in his bed again. It was as if a fragment of that feeling had just stayed behind, as if he could still feel Jack's lips on his. Jack was such an idiot. He always had to change everything, tint everything just like he pleased.


	3. And I need everything I see

**A/N: So, first I didn't work on this translation much at all and then I finished all the chapter in one night. Huh. I hadn't even realized there was an entire chapter like almost only about kissing. The actual plot and such will progress next chapter. This one is also slightly NSFW, but so non-descript, it's not worth the mention much. Enjoy and please review!**

It took two days, but Jack got over his illness. It were two days in which Damian didn't encounter Jack even once and didn't put any effort in going to see him either - even if sometimes that was harder than he had expected. But on the third day after the kiss, which Damian tried to forget fervently, Jack suddenly stood in front of him again and even looked pretty good at that.

It was when Damian left the classroom. No smell announced him this time and Damian had to blink as he saw Jack sitting comfortably on the banister. His illness left next to no traces. He wore make-up, his lips were shining blue as it was his trademark and his eyes were shaded magenta. When he saw Damian, he started grinning and jumped down onto the floor.

"Damian!" Again, without last name or any other addition. "Fancy seeing you here!"

Damian tilted his head. "You're not really trying to pretend this was a coincidence."

"Aren't you happy to see me all recovered?" Jack sighed dramatically and raised his hand to his forehead, feigning exasperation.

Damian shrugged before he could stop himself. He hadn't meant to be this honest. Quickly he changed the topic. "You smell differently. Where did that disgusting paint smell go? Mango shampoo doesn't suit you."

Jack blinked and then he had to laugh, only upsetting Damian further. Jack's laughter was strange, honestly amused and then again completely beyond all reason and sanity - possibly just like Jack's true nature. "Wonderful, how much attention you pay to me~"

"I don't pay attention to you, you're just generally obnoxious." Damian knew he had lost this discussion from the start, but he wasn't willing to give up just this fast.

He felt weird. Everything seemed so normal as Jack had never been ill, as if nothing had ever, ever happened. Everyday life was back with a bang and Damian should be happy about it, but he couldn't. He couldn't help expecting that something would happen, that Jack would do anything, anything that proved he hadn't just hallucinated that one other night.

But everything was the same, only the smell of mangos made a little difference that ultimately proved nothing but that Jack hadn't painted since taking a shower.

They walked next to each other in silence, through the half-dark of the academy hallways and Damian tried his very best to not run insane while he watched Jack, his colours that shined out of the shadows like ignes fatui, steadily ready to seduce humans and pull them down into the dark.

Jack turned around to him and his eyes were positively glowing. "You are staring awfully hard, Damian. Are you overwhelmed by my perfection, maybe?"

Damian had already opened his mouth to say 'Dream on' but Jack wasn't done yet.

"Or maybe it's just that you can't forget _this_?"

His voice turned to a whisper and he leaned down. Damian could feel his hair tickling on his skin and then he could see his lips, twisted to a mixture of mocking grin and seductive smile, and then he didn't see them either anymore, only saw the eyeshadow on Jack's falling eyelids and then -finally- he saw nothing anymore, because his own eyes fell closed as Jack kissed him. It took only this one contact to tear away the ground under Damian's feet while simultaneously revalidating his reality.

It was different from the first time. Now Jack was definitely in control of his actions. The kiss was less messy, less feverishly, but more fascinating and all-consuming. Jack knew what he was doing as he claimed Damian's lips and Damian wondered how many times he had kissed before, other people, unknown to him and not worthy of Jack's attention.

Damian let himself be kissed, did nothing, thought a little, sensed the many little details of Jack's full lips, savoured the artificial taste. Lipstick - really nasty, but also really _Jack_, so familiar that Damian hardly minded.

Late, way too late, he finally pushed Jack away, went into a defence pose and glared. Jack laughed and poked Damian's forehead with his index finger. "Lovely", he whispered in Damian's ear and then danced away without a care. Damian leaned against the wall and sighed. "Harrassment..." he groaned, but against his will he had to grin. "What an idiot..."

Jack's weird melody was racing towards a crescendo and his colours tinted the whole world. Damian would run after the ignes fatui and be the first to return alive... because the dark... _hell_... that was his habitat.

Being kissed by Jack turned into an everyday sensation. It happened again and again. When Damian left class, Jack leaned against the banister and kissed him briefly, unseen by the class that Damian was last to leave. He hated the crowded run to the doors.

Sometimes Jack took part in lessons himself, sitting next to Damian and doodling. Sometimes he bothered the teacher or just leaned over to kiss Damian. He was being pushed away secretively those times, accompanied by a little curse. Jack laughed at it.

And then there were those moments after training, when nobody else was left in the gym and Damian found himself with his back against the wall, eaten up by Jack's smell and taste.

Damian took the kisses as they came. He didn't reciprocate, he just let them happen. He refused to enjoy them, but he couldn't bring himself to detest them. Likely it was nothing but a game, a challenge. Jack wanted Damian, the cold Damian, to become a part of his distorted world and Damian in contrary tried to stay what he deemed 'sane'. Never would Damian have had the idea that their kisses made them some kind of couple. But at the same time he also couldn't imagine Jack ever looking at anybody but him, ever again kissing someone else. Other people didn't deserve Jack.

Damian ran his hand through his hair. Right. Jack was an idiot, a trouble-maker, a constant nuisance, but other people simply didn't deserve him. Because Jack was breathtaking, room-filling, world-filling. And Damian was the only one who could withstand this natural catastrophe, the only one who could stay himself despite being faced with Jack. He was strong enough to make Jack his own. And as much as he sometimes hated him, he wouldn't give him up.

Looking back, it might not have been such a good idea to return Jack's kiss for the first time. But Damian hadn't been able to stop it. He'd been angry, angry about his revelation concerning Jack. Jack belonged to him, so he needed control, couldn't always let him do as he pleased. He tiled his head back and suppressed a sigh, while he closed his eyes. Looking back, that might have been too much of an encouragement for Jack.

And yet, kissing Jack had felt good. Control. Control over the colours, over Jack, over the uncontrollable. Ironically exactly this sensation had given him an idea of how painting had to feel to Jack.

Damian had become more dominant and he felt how much Jack was pleased by it. The kisses of the last days had been more passionate, all innocence fading away. It was a battle as much as a game and Damian started to enjoy it. At least a little, that was as much as he could admit to himself.

And now he was here, on the banister, arms wrapped around Jack and knowing he had lost the fight.

His heart was racing as Jack's lips slid over his throat and likely left a blue trail in doing so.

Damian could feel how Jack was grinning as he claimed him. Maybe it had only been a matter of time for them to end up at this point. Now it was too late to think about it. Now they were here. Nobody else was left in the hallways. It was cool, but it didn't matter. Jack didn't even shiver as his coat fell to the ground, closely followed by his shirt. Damian couldn't help smirking himself. If he was capable of being attracted to someone, then this was the moment for it. Jack smiled, his hand played with the zipper of his clothes. When his shoulders were bared, Damian didn't complain.

He felt himself sliding down onto the floor, leaning against the wall, his hand tangled in Jack's hair. Just for today, just for this moment even, he let himself be guided by Jack's hands, pulled down into his world. His consciousness sometimes flickered to life and then faded back into darkness when he gave Jack silent commands, which he obeyed to, despite doing it mockingly, laughing. Damian didn't mind. That was Jack just as he was and that was him, Damian, just as he was in this exact moment, this short break from their daily rhythm.

Even when Jack had paint on his fingers, Damian did nothing, just let him act. They'd gone too far to turn around anyway.

"Beautiful... Excellent!"

And the colours spread over his body, the smell filled all his senses, Damian was sinking in the feeling of Jack's touch, fingertips on skin. The smell, Jack's ragged breath, the small exclamations... everything was vaguely familiar, yet new. This time it would make a difference if Damian wasn't there, because this time Jack's passion belonged to only him. By letting Jack claim him, he was able to lay claim on Jack simultaneously.

Roughly Damian got a hold of Jack's hair, pulled him down into a kiss, closer and closer until their bare chests were touching and the paint spread onto Jack's soft skin as well. "Do it already..", Damian demanded breathlessly after breaking apart and Jack grinned. "So demanding...", he whispered back, but there was no reason for him to not follow Damian's order. The next moment, they were one.

"Jack..." Damian breathed it out softly. It was the first time he ever called the other by his name. Jack's eyes were glowing and then there was nothing in their worlds but each other.

Colour, it was always colour, base colours, mixed colours, colour, colour everywhere, an ocean of colour. In the midst of it all, Damian could see Jack lean over him and watch him, the tips of his hair tickling Damian's sensitive skin.

"Not what I had in mind, but still very pretty", Jack silently commented the paint patterns on their bodies. His hand brushed over Damian's upper body and the warmth of the skin made Damian become aware of his own body cooling down. He ignored Jack's words and just pulled him back down to him, cherishing all that was left of the previous heat. He sighed, half annoyed and half satisfied. "I hope for your sake that this paint is easy to wash off..."


	4. Over and Over

**A/N: I actually updated, whoa, I'm so good. That's what to do with your free periods in school. Either way, hi, it's been a while. Thanks for your continued support, it means a lot to me! This is the last chapter before we time-skip to past the World Championship (and to my favourite parts, ehe), so enjoy!**

Damian closed his eyes and counted to ten. He wasn't disappointed. As he reached the last number, he felt Jack's hand remove itself from his shoulder and judging by the stream of air its owner just rushed off in a hurry.

Reopening his eyes, Damian followed his partner slowly, directing a little grin at the group of youths they were marching towards.

"You really shouldn't have done that...," he whispered and his voice was icy. The faces of the boys immediately turned a few shades paler. One of them dropped the pen that had been sullying the wall until a few seconds ago. Not only the wall though. Also a painting of Jack. Jack, who had now arrived, grabbing one of the boys by the wrist, his face distorted by unleashed rage. He reached out and punched. Once. Twice.

"Scum, how dare you even do so much as touch my art, dirty little-!"

The boy sunk down on the floor, a few drops of blood dripping onto his uniform. Jack was strong. Constant training wasn't without its rewards.

"I-it was a test of c-courage...", another of the boys stammered and immediately retreated as he was met with Jack's insane eyes.

"I don't care! I don't care at all! Amateurs, insignificant ugly amateurs... My Art... My... Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" Even as Jack pressed his hands against his head as if wanting to keep out the unwanted mutilations, Damian remained perfectly calm. It wasn't a surprise to see Jack lose it at only such a small thing. There was hardly any balance in his mind. Damian had seen this before, on Jack and on countless others. It started with little things, but then every ever so small influence could be a trigger. By the end of it they simply broke. Student after student. The engine that was the HD Academy never cared and, by extension, neither did Damian. Maybe it was the fact that Jack hadn't broken yet that kept him drawn to the other.

For a little while Jack just seemed to sink into inexplicable pain, but then his expression returned to normal without any proper transition.

"I challenge you. All of you, together. Immediately." He grinned and his voice has a deep, threatening ring to it, only intensifying with every further syllable. Damian had to chuckle. This could prove to be amusing. He didn't mind the fact that Jack was insane, because when he destroyed opponents that didn't matter at all. It was pleasing to see Jack wreck people's lives artistically. There was something soothing and oddly satisfying in the sight. Damian liked to watch, smirking at just how... Jack it all was. This time was no difference. Jack's deadly precision easily could keep up with all art vandalists and he truly didn't feel like being merciful with them. All his rage easily turned into fighting energy, a desire to take the nonbelievers and integrate them into his gruesome world of art.

At the end, they had to crawl off while Jack took a look at his work, a completely torn stadium depicting a decorated wheel bearing three eyes made from three destroyed beyblades. When the boys passed Damian, he giggled. It was a sound closely resembling breaking glass. "You should have known better.." He whispered it almost gently. "Nobody can touch his work and get away with it."

Jack no longer was this unsolvable riddle he'd been to Damian. Not since he had heard Jack, because every since then Jack was in his possession. Jack was predictably unpredictable. The chaos in Damian's world of order. His opposite. They were like ions. After Jack had taken Damian's attention for himself, the balance had been broken and could only be restored by them being connected. They attracted each other and only closeness could return to instable people to stability.

Jack seemed satisfied as soon as the unfortunate had left the room. He tip-toed over to Damian. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Damian turned to look at Jack, the slightly deranged hair and the sparkling green eyes. He nodded. "Maybe."

"Very well, very well..."

The voice of Dr. Ziggurat tore through the resulting silence. "But this bey isn't good enough for you anymore, Jack. As you know, we've been working on a new one, based on your Arrange System data. For you as well, Damian."

The boys spun around to look at the man behind them, onto whose face a devilish grin seemed to be permantly fixed.

"Oh? Go on~," Jack hummed, but Damian cut right down to business. "Is there a reason you mention that again now?"

Ziggurat nodded. "Of course. I'm sure you've mentioned Battle Bladers in school, right?"

Now it was Jack's turn to nod professionally. "Naturally." It wasn't really all that natural for him though, but in the relating lesson he'd actually graced the lecture with his presence.

"Well, inspired by that fateful tournament, a World Championship will take place soon. This information is completely exclusive - the WBBA decided only minutes ago. I want you two to represent the United States of America."

For a moment there was silence. The World Championship, that was a pretty big thing. None of them had ever had a foreign opponent. At the same time, however, it appeared completely self-explanatory to them that they had been chosen. The HD Academy was the best beyblading school imaginable and with that the students were all the top bladers of America. Among them, Jack and Damian were the best by far, taking the highest courses in each and every subject. Defeating the other students came easy to them. Only, they had never fought each other for the result of that would have been destructive. Both of them were convinced to be able to win such a fight and it was better to leave it at that. Or so Ziggurat had decided, knowing that Damian, the result of a lifelong training project, would be able to beat Jack either way.

Finally, the boys had fully grasped the news and grinned. "It will be an honour to the World Championship," Jack commented and this time Damian could fully approve of his overconfidence. Like always, actually, when Jack spoke about the both of them in the same breath.

Dr. Ziggurat nodded again. "Exactly. Your beys will be finished soon. Damian, yours will be first. Hell Kerbecs is awaiting completion."

Hell Kerbecs... Damian nodded. He intuitively felt that this would be a much stronger bey than any he had ever used for training - his bey, the one created for him as much as the one he was created for.

Ziggurat turned to leave, but Jack held him back. "And mine? What will it be called?"

Not bothering to look back again, Ziggurat replied: "Killer Beafowl."

Even after the doctor had already left the room, Jack still seemed almost electrified, as if he'd had a revelation surpassing all revelations. "Killer Beafowl...", he repeated, wrapping his arms around his upper body - a position reminding Damian a lot of the straight-jacket in which had seen jack so many times. "What a beautiful name... Kira kira... Killer Beafowl... Ah, a deadly peacock, a truly splendid combination."*

Damian definitely couldn't deny that it fit Jack, even if most of the time he was more of a cockalorum.

The week rushed through at terrifying speed as Jack and Damian trained harder than ever. Better, better and better again. Winning the World Championships had to be self-explanatory. The longer he thought about it, the more Damian felt a sense of belonging when it came to Kerbecs. Each time sleeping in the Arrange System capsule he could feel how his data was synchronized with the unfinished bey. It was the channel of his power, his purpose. The knowledge seemed to pulse through him. This bey was the reason he existed...

Despite living in his own world for most of the day, Jack was observant. He, too, could feel this change, this sense of direction, go through Damian and it bothered him. For reasons much more trivial than one would presume. Damian's modified school uniform was still just that - a uniform. Now that the training bey days were to be over, it didn't seem appropriate anymore to lump him in with all the others like that. It disturbed the harmony of exterior appearance and feelings. "That won't do, that won't do", he whispered to himself ever-so often. In truth, he was already inspired. When he mentioned it to Damian the other just shrugged. He merely asked "I've worn these clothes for so long now, what could be wrong with them?" and tilted his head.

But Jack had just ran out frantically and the same evening Damian found him with needle and thread, humming to himself. It was weird to see him creative in such a traditional way. He didn't even see Damian, who remained standing in the doorway, looking at him. So that was what he meant. What kind of insanity might come from this in the end? Jack's every-day look alone was spectacular enough, but now he was sewing for the World Championship, for Damian...

For Damian.

He'd almost have felt dizzy, then he silently marched back to his room. He'd find out soon enough and, after all, Jack couldn't force him to wear it.

Truly, Jack had put effort into this, it was plain to see. The seams looked professional - a level of precision you'd not have thought Jack capable off at first sight. "Isn't it great?" Jack gushed about his own work happily "It took me foreeeever to persuade Dr. Ziggurat to show me the design of Kerbecs, but now your clothes are perfectly adjusted to suit both you and your bey~"

Damian didn't remember Jack ever taking his measures and yet the one-piece suit fit him perfectly, never too tight or too wide. Damian didn't question it. He'd never thought about where clothes came from so he kind of took it for granted that they fit him. It was comfortable. Damian looked down at his body and nodded. Happily, Jack clapped his hands. "Excellent! And now to the highlight!"

An enormous thing that Damian had seen in the background before and which Jack now carried over to them was golden and the sides had a lot of similarity to claws.

"What's that?" Damian asked suspiciously, but Jack didn't reply and without warning he placed the, well, the thing from which a cape hung down, on Damian's shoulders. It was heavy, but not nearly as heavy as expected and Damian, who was much stronger than his frail body would make people think, could carry it effortlessly. Jack was enchanted, stepped back and looked at his work with little cries of enthusiasm, while Damian stepped to the mirror.

In comparison to his previous style, this outfit was flashy and impractical. Damian didn't really know what to think. He didn't like the idea of letting Jack fashion him, but he couldn't say that he disliked the result of his creativity. It was impressing, deserving of respect and -most importantly- it matched Kerbecs.

And then he had to think of Jack sewing, focussed but with a smile on his face. Holding needles between his teeth, hands always in movement. Damian couldn't do anything but keep the clothes on, spinning a little which caused the cape to wave around him.

"Wonderful", Jack sing-songed behind him and leaned forward to whisper in his ear: "Just one last detail's missing..."

Damian looked at him questioningly. "Which detail?"

Jack's fingers held up a leather collar and he grinned mischievously, maybe a little seductively and maybe just plain evil, but yet playful. A most disturbing facial expression either way.

"A collar." Damian said tonelessly. "What gave you the idea I would wear a collar?"

"Oh, I just thought I could convince you one way or another... It will suit you, Damian, I'm sure."

"I still won't do it," Damian huffed.

"But Damian, but Damian..." Jack hummed, his voice going down to deeper octaves. He had a way of ignoring and yet answering all refusal from Damian by just acting more convincing. "Think about it, Damian... Aren't you here to use Kerbecs? You're tied to this bey. Isn't a collar the perfect symbolism? There's no leash either... You stay in control."

"Crazy talk." Damian turned away his look. "In the end it's just because it is you who wants to be the one to put a collar on me."

There was light laughter from Jack and then he brushed his hand through Damian's hair. "Correct. That's part of the plan."

The surprising amount of honesty made Damian face Jack again. Jack might not ever hide his true self, but yet Damian hadn't thought he'd just openly admit to something like this.

"Idiot", he whispered but his voice didn't seem to quite want to leave his throat, because Jack had already pushed his hair back and positioned the leather on his neck.

Damian sensed Jack's fingers searching for the clasp. He had to search with his fingers, for his gaze was firmly yet amusedly directed at Damian's eyes.

Damian let him go on and he himself couldn't have said why. Even for him, it was sometimes hard to think clearly when he was with Jack.

The collar clicked closed and Jack leaned forward to kiss Damian's forehead, only a short touch of lips and hair, nothing more. It was exactly because it was so simple that Damian felt weird about it. He was used to passionate seduction, calm affections were new and to some extent unwanted.

Grinning, Jack left the room. Damian could feel the exact second he passed through the door without even looking. Turning to look back at the mirror, he had to admit Jack was right. It suited him. Of course. Jack would know about such things, wouldn't he?

Damian knew he'd wear the collar tomorrow as well. Maybe the day after, too. It didn't have anything to do with Jack. It was just how it would be. It was completely fine this way.

Preparations for the tournament went on and soon Jack himself appeared in new colours as well, as if he didn't reinvent himself enough already. The new clothes were flashy as expected. He was a peacock with heart and soul and now he was showing off his tail to show the entire world why they should worship him on their knees.

When Damian first saw him like this, Jack was just rushing into his room while he was getting dressed in the morning. He had just put on the pants of his suit, not even finished covering his upper body, when Jack smashed open the door, announced by his acid paint smell as always - a fanfare for the nose.

"Starbreaker!" He exclaimed proudly, but if he had expected that Damian would just know what he meant he was wrong. He earned nothing but a confused look and a headtilt. However, while Damian was still busy wondering, Jack already started explaining. "The team name for the World Championship, silly you! Starbreaker!" Jack spread his arms and Damian wondered if in his world there was some sort of spotlight fixed on him. "Not even the stars can stop us, Damian."

Slowly, he nodded. "Starbreaker", Damian repeated, listening to the sound.

* Killer sounds like 'kira' in Japanese and when doubled as 'kira-kira' it means 'sparkling'.


End file.
